


Making my way back to you

by myrish_lace



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bad Poetry, Dawn and Spike are platonic too, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, To be clear Tara and Spike are platonic friends here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: What if Spike had confessed to Tara, before the events of Seeing Red? Tara helps Spike understand one of the reasons why Buffy may try to push him away by calling him evil and soulless, and helps Spike and Buffy reconcile. A blatant fix-it fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For my regular readers, sorry this isn't Jon x Sansa or Star Wars. I've been needing to write this BTVS fic for a while, and I wanted to try these characters out. Hopefully I did them some justice. Also the poem is bad on purpose! Like, I know it's bad, I did it deliberately. Feel free to mock it anyway in the comments. :)
> 
> I'm myrish-lace-love on tumblr if you want to say hi!

_Convenient_. That's what the night had been for her. Spike kicked a headstone. He was a whirl of raw nerves, off-kilter, angry and bitter. And sad. All right, all right, sad, too, because when she'd leapt into his arms, she'd kissed him like he was cool water and she was dying of thirst. She'd... _ridden_  him, chose him, and he'd seen the same longing in her eyes that he felt in his gut, in his heart. And he'd hoped. Hoped the night might be a revelation to her rather than a regret. He kept hearing snatches of what they'd whispered to each other as the building cracked and broke around them. "I've got you, love, that's it, come with me now....Spike, don't let go, please, don't...never, love, never, you don't have to ask..."

And the worst: "I need you, Spike, I can't stop needing you." She'd touched his cheek. "And I don't want to stop, anymore." He'd kissed her knuckles, like the besotted fool he was, and smiled at her. "Then don't. I won't. I promise, kitten. I'll need you tell the end of time."

_Making love_ , William sighed inside his head. He snarled. "Hardly, you idiot. Hardly. You think she spits on you and leaves the morning after if it's love?"

A squirrel stood transfixed, head cocked.  _Talking to myself again. Brilliant_.

He stopped in front of Buffy's house. He knew she wasn't home, because he could recite her schedule like a book, let's not fool ourselves, and because he could smell something green and healthy Tara was making for dinner that Dawn inevitably wouldn't eat. Spike's spirits lifted a bit, enough that he rolled his shoulders and wiped his eyes. Little Bit didn't need to see him all wonky over a bird, especially if the bird was her sister. Deserved better than that. 

He snuffed out his cigarette. Tara didn't like them in the house, and Spike did what he could to make Tara happy. Not that he went much out of his way, just brought groceries from time to time and helped her with the dishes. He'd spent a night consoling her when Willow left. He remembered patting her back awkwardly as she cried, soothing her, telling her she was better than Red deserved. That much was true, he thought. Tara might be quiet, even shy, and he normally didn't take much note of shy women. Liked them brash and bold. But Tara was strong, and she welcomed him into the house like he wasn't a freak. She had a lot in common with Joyce, now that he thought about it. The garden behind the Summers house was thriving.

"Spike!" He heard Dawn's squeal from the window and a smile came to him unbidden. She opened the door and bounced on her toes. 

"'Lo Nibblet. Glinda cooking a nasty brew for us in her cauldron?" Dawn nodded and made a face. Spike ruffled her hair as he stepped into the foyer and hung up his coat.

"I heard that, you know." Tara's mild voice carried from the kitchen. "Both of you...well one of you anyway needs vitamins, and minerals. Lentils aren't that bad, Dawnie, they're a great source of protein." She pointed her spoon at Dawn. "I promise this won't taste as 'good for you' as last week's stew." Dawn looked at her expectantly. Tara sighed. "And...you can have ice cream once you've finished your homework and tried to eat your dinner."

Dawn clapped her hands. "Yes! One set of piping hot algebra homework coming up." She bounded up the stairs.

"Completed piping hot homework," Tara called after her. She kept stirring. She really was pretty, in an old-fashioned kind of way. Being out from under Red's shadow was good for her. 

"There's blood in the fridge for you, Spike, if you're hungry." Tara kept the fridge stocked for him. Pig's blood, right next to the milk. Like it was normal. Like they were a family, of sorts.

Spike poured a mug and heated it up in the microwave. "You're good to us, you know, Glinda. Keep us in nutritious food, make sure the Bit does her schoolwork proper." He slurped on his straw and Tara winced. "Help us with our manners too." Spike kept drinking, silent this time, and winked, winning himself one of Tara's rare, soft smiles. 

"I just do what needs doing, Spike, it's no trouble. I care about both of you. And Dawn adores you."

Something loosened in Spike's chest. Nibblet did seem to need him, and that was something he could hang on to. The warm feeling stayed with him through dinner, as Dawn groused about the "brown mush" that was lentil stew and crowed over her ice cream. Spike helped Tara check Dawn's homework afterwards, and caught Dawn stifling a yawn.

"Right, that's enough, off to bed, early to rise and all that rot." Spike saw Tara's raised eyebrow. "Meaning, sleep is important, Nibblet, it helps you...." Spike had trouble remembering what it was sleep did, anyway. He slept when he was bored, and that was about it.

Tara swooped in. "Get the rest your growing body needs so you can pay attention in class and keep learning, Dawnie." 

Dawn tilted her head. "Want to try that again Tara? Not sure you sounded quite enough like an after-school special."

Tara laughed. "Scoot. Now. You'd better be asleep in half an hour, too, because Spike's vampire senses will tell me if you're not."

Spike faked a growl. Dawn giggled. "I know, I know. Goodnight!" She was up the stairs in a flash and Spike and Tara both counted down the seconds till they heard her hop in bed.

"Stuck the landing that time, I think. I'll go clean up, Glinda, you rest for a minute. Want some tea?"

"Thanks Spike."

 ***

Spike wiped down the last pot and returned it to the cabinet. He was pouring hot water over Tara's tea leaves when sadness hit him again like a wave. Too much time alone, and he always came back round to Buffy. Well, he was a big bad vampire, he could take a few knocks. He'd see Tara settled and head home to mope. Or kill some demons. You know, if they happened into his long, circuitous path home and ran into his stake. This was Sunnydale, after all.

"There you are, pet." Tara accepted the cup gratefully. Spike rubbed the back of his head. "Right, well, I'll be off, see you soon, then."

"What's wrong, Spike?" Tara looked at him over the rim of her cup. 

"Wrong? Nothing, nothing at all, I'm fine, never been better, why would you think something's wrong?" Did her eyes have to be so blue, and so kind?

"You're just...wound up, and worn down, a little, Spike. If there's something you want to talk about you can, you know. I'm a good listener." Tara put her saucer down. 

"Look, Glinda, it's kind of you but I'm...." Blue, and kind, with depths you could get lost in. Why did Red leave her, anyway? "Bugger it, all right, yeah, you win, I'm a mess." Spike sat down heavily.

"You want some hot chocolate?" Spike nodded. He felt a hand on his shoulder a moment later as she gave him the mug. She always remembered the marshmallows. He felt a lump in his throat.

"Spike, why are you crying, honey?"

Spike let out a harsh sob. “Convenient, what kind of a word is that, when I tried to show her my heart?”

Tara blinked. "Okay, so I'm guessing this is about Buffy, but, um, Spike, could you back up a little earlier?"

Spike turned the mug over in his hands. Buffy didn't want the Scoobies knowing about their relationship, if "relationship" even described what they had together. But that ship had sailed. Tara already knew, and he felt like he could trust her.

"Buffy and I, we..." _Shagged? Fucked? Are destroying each other, a little at a time?_

"So you do love her." Tara tucked her dark blond hair behind her ear. "I'd wondered."

Spike was speechless. "How could you know?"

Tara shrugged. “It's written all over you, when you're around her."

"So you think vampires can love, do you?" Spike bit the words out. "One of your crystal balls tell you that? Soulless, remember?"

Tara's smile was sad. "I don't think it's that simple. Or that black and white. Dawn's not human, and I love her." Tara's voice dropped so Spike had to strain to hear her. "I like to think she loves me." 

Spike leaned forward. He hated seeing Tara upset, and Dawn cared about her, he knew it. Dawn would be lost without her. He had to make her understand. He rested a hand on her knee. "She does, pet, I know she does. She's crazy about you. How could you think she doesn't love you? You're one of the most important people in her life. Remember that."

Tara covered his hand with her own. "Well, then it can be true for you too, can't it? That you love Buffy?" 

Spike paused for a beat. "Did you just trick me?" 

Tara winked. "Maybe. I meant it though, Spike. I think Dawn can love, and so can you." _Not to be underestimated, this one_ , he thought ruefully.

Tara squeezed Spike's hand and let go. "Love's not black and white, Spike, but I think Buffy needs it to be. Like a switch she can turn on and off. Demon or no demon. Soul or no soul. Can't you see why?"

Spike didn't like being told he was dense. Never mind that it might be true, he bristled nonetheless. 

"No, I bloody well can't. Not as bright as you lot, after all." Maybe he should be going.  

Tara's voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "Well listen, then, for one in your...unlife. Say she has feelings for you. Say she cares about you deeply. Say she loves you. A creature without a soul. She kills them every night, Spike. Creatures in the dark. And I think, to live with herself, she has to believe they deserve it."

_Death is your art_. She was the Slayer, after all. Maybe Tara had a point. 

"So if she loves you, what's to stop her from thinking she's been wrong about the others she's killed? To look back at her history, and see the beasts she's dusted, and wonder if one of them might have been capable of love? She couldn't be as fast or as strong as she needed to strike that blow. She can't afford the doubt. The shades of grey."

Spike turned his head away, stung. The demon in him roared back to life, wanted to break Tara, to hurt her, for making him understand why Buffy had to stay away from him. ""Buffy's not wrong about me. About what I am. Think I'm sweetness and light? Try this out, love. Turns out I can hit her, now, since she came back. And I do."

Tara seemed unfazed. "Always thought that was kind of...foreplay, for you two?"

Spike was grateful he couldn't blush. "Well...yeah. But that's not the point. You know what I told her, pet, when I found out I could? When I learned she was the only person I could hit? Told her she came back wrong. Twisted. Darker." Not entirely, true, he'd stopped at wrong, but he was making a point here. "Then I hit her some more."

Tara shrank back into the couch. Good. She needed to remember, too, what a monster he was. "So yeah, I hit her, a few nights ago, in fact, and she hit me back, and then she kissed me, out of nowhere, she kissed me, like she couldn't get enough, of what I was, she wrapped her arms around me, and then we..."

Tara cleared her throat after a minute. "Well. So, sex. And telling her she's wrong and dark and twisted inside."

"So don't you see? Don't you get it? I am a monster, Tara, I can't be what she needs. I'm vicious and cruel to her, and no amount of love can make up for that. Demon, through and through." Spike sat back, proud to have the upper hand again, even if it did make him miserable. 

Tara regarded him steadily. "I don't think it's that easy for you either, Spike. It doesn't take a demon to do what you've done, to talk to Buffy the way you do." Tara sipped her tea, and managed to return her cup to the table with only the slightest of tremors. "Men in my family managed it all on their own." For once Spike was speechless. "You really believe that, Spike? That she's twisted and wrong inside?"

Somehow Spike knew that his ties to Tara, and Dawn, were at risk of breaking depending on his answer. So he closed his eyes, composed himself, and told the truth. "I don't know. I said it, because she's so far above me, she's untouchable, and I thought if I could drag her down to my level I might have a chance with her. Might be able to make a go of it. Which is ugly. But it's the truth. All I know for sure is that she came back...different. And I'm desperate enough to use that to get to her. Which is why I have to stop this. I can't do this to her. She shouldn't have to live where I live, in the depths, even if she's changed. No matter how much I want her to." Spike was exhausted, winded, like he'd fought an army of the undead.

Tara was still leaning a little away from him, but when she spoke, she spoke gently. "It could have gone the other way you know. Buffy could have come back more...'right'. Like, from heaven. Maybe you can hit angels, Spike. Bet the chip wouldn't have anticipated that." Tara seemed pleased with her joke and Spike chuckled along with her. He had to keep Buffy's secret safe, so Tara wouldn't know how close to the truth she'd come. 

"Not bloody likely, but sure, Glinda, maybe Buffy's tricked out with wings these days. Either way, I gotta break it off. Slayer needs to be able to do her thing."

Tara sighed. "Tell her, Spike. All of it."

Spike threw out his arms and looked indignant. "How do you know I haven't?"  _Probably because she's known me for more than a week._

Tara collected his mug, and her cup. "Just tell her, so she can make her own choice. You and her. You'll be here on Thursday?"

So he'd be able to come back after all. See Nibblet, help Tara with her next green concoction. He was flooded with gratitude, but cut off the waterworks before they started. "Yeah. Yeah I will. Need anything?"

"Some bananas would be good."

"Right you are. Thanks for the...cocoa, love."

"Tell her, Spike," Tara called over her shoulder. "I'm going to ask you how it went next time you're here for dinner.

_Bollocks_. Now there really was no way out. 


	2. Chapter 2

Spike was clicking through the TV channels listlessly when he heard a familiar knock. The Slayer. He'd been dreading this moment. He'd also been waiting in his crypt for two days for her to drop by.

"Spike? Are you home?" Always astounded him, that she had to ask if he was there. He could smell her, hear her the minute she was outside the concrete wall. One of the drawbacks of being human, he supposed. Buffy had told him once that her sense of smell was hardly enhanced, though her eyesight and hearing were "better than the average bear," was that the adorable way she'd put it? They'd been at the cemetery gate the day before Halloween and she'd been wearing pink trousers and a white hat, not that he'd committed it to memory.

"No, I'm out, gone for a jog, come back later, thanks." He couldn't help but smile when she burst through the door anyway. God but he wanted her. He could feel the heat rolling off her in waves from where he sat. But he had some pride. Not much, but some. "Are you deaf or daft, love? I'm not here. Sod off."

Thankfully Buffy ignored him. She came over to his chair, more tentative than usual. "So I came to you-"

"For a shag and some blows, I know, love, not interested." He clicked the remote for emphasis. He longed to touch her. He wanted to pull her down to him, feel her weight in his lap, run his hands through her soft and golden hair. He had about five more minutes of bravado in him, and he was going to have to use them. To tell her it was over. No need to fill her in on the details like Tara wanted. Had nothing to do with the fact that he was bloody terrified. Just not necessary, was all.

Buffy stepped in front of the television. "No, Spike. We have to talk." She was hugging herself, probably cold. Spike wanted to get up, to warm her. But having no body heat was a bitch, and she probably wouldn't appreciate his black duster draped over her. What had she called it, the skin of another Slayer? Yeah, bad idea. Also, physical proximity would unravel the last of his nerve and he'd be a blubbering mess, begging her to stay.

She started again. "I need you to know what I was thinking, when we brought the house down."

Spike gave her a leer. "It was a virtuoso performance built of convenience, love." She didn't move. What was it going to take, to drive her away?

Buffy winced. "I...I shouldn't have said that, Spike." _No you damn well shouldn't have, pet_. Why didn't he say that out loud? Why was he giving her a stiff nod instead?

"But you shouldn't have told me I came back wrong, either." Buffy balled her fists, and Spike felt himself start to rev up, for the fight, for the dance, for whatever she'd spare him. "I gave you my secret, Spike, and you threw it back in my face. Told me I was wrong. And you want me to believe you love me? Really?" Her voice was high and thin. 

Spike conjured up the memory of Tara's hand on his arm. "I told you that because I'm a bad man, Buffy."

Buffy rolled her eyes, but her hands relaxed. "Right, you've always been bad." The crypt was very quiet. They were at a standoff, and Spike wasn't sure how to end it. _Kiss her or kill her_ , the demon whispered.

Buffy jerked her chin. "So you got rid of the disgusting-ness that was the shrine, huh?"

Spike glanced at the clean-swept corner. "Yeah."

"You used it for the robot, didn't you."

"I told you, it wasn't-"

"Is anything real to you Spike? Is anything real to William?"

Spike clenched his jaw. Oh no, she wasn't going to get away that easily. She couldn't transfer all her love and affection to the dead man inside him. He got up. "William was a git. A poufter. William didn't have a killing bone in his body. William couldn’t fight side-by-side with you, love. William was pathetic."

"He's a part of you Spike."

 _Gotta stop this_. _Now_. "Sure, sweetheart. Just like the demon is. You can't get out of the mess you're in by caring about dear William."

Buffy's stare was like ice. "I'd say we're in this 'mess' together, Spike."

"You know that's the first time you've referred to us as a couple, right?"

He saw her take a few deep breaths. "I want to hit you so bad right now."

 _Yes_ , the demon roared.

Buffy started pacing. "But I won't, because I'm not about the distractions, not this time."

Spike lit a cigarette. "Pity, that. Look, already told you, not interested. Thanks for stopping by. Shove off."

"So tell me more about William." Damn her singular bloody-mindedness. She wanted to know more about the dead poet? Maybe that was just what he needed to drive her away.

"Fine. Here. Let me show you something. If you want to know more of who I was. Whether you could have loved the ponce," he muttered. He stubbed out his cigarette and pulled a sheet of rumpled paper from underneath the chair.

He brandished the page in front of her and - couldn't do it. Couldn't give it to her. He remembered the night he'd written it, drunk off his gourd, three days after she'd told him she was ashamed of what they'd done. He'd sipped blood from a mug like the neutered fool he was and scrawled poetry to made himself feel better. He'd even used a quill, for what, old time’s sake? Then he'd gone and dusted a few vamps, which did wonders for his mood. He almost burned this poem too, but somehow it kept escaping the flames. Buffy was waiting expectantly, beautiful and bold. He'd kissed her, been inside her, done things with her he didn't have names for after a hundred years, but looking into her hazel eyes, he was...frightened.

Buffy's voice was surprisingly gentle. "Would you read it to me, Spike?"

He scoffed. "It's bloody awful, Buffy. Remember the laugh you and the Scoobies had when you found out what my name was? William the Bloody, terrible poetry? Hasn't changed, pet." He put a sneer in his voice. "In fact it’s gotten worse. Romance gets drained out of you when the demon takes over." That last part was a lie, and it looked like Buffy knew it.

"I'd like to hear it."

Spike stopped, and started, and stopped again.

"All right. One, stop smirking, love."

Buffy feigned innocence. "Smirking? No smirking. Genuine, one hundred percent curiosity here, Spike." She was daring him to do it, because she thought it would work, and she was right, damn it, because he couldn't resist a challenge, not from her.

"Two, I can't - I can't look at you when I read this, all right? I can't."

Buffy perched on the edge of his chair, patted the arm. "Could you sit with me?"

It was the first intimate gesture she'd offered. But she had him cornered, and she'd made him angry, and as much as his heart leapt to hear her offer, he couldn't help pushing it, and he needed to force her to leave. "You want to be next to an evil, soulless thing and have him spout poetry? You sure, love? Vampire, creature of the-

"Shut up, Spike." She sounded tired, defeated. "It was a lot to ask. I get it. I'll go." She got up with that blend of feral grace that moved him in ways he wished he could ignore, and started for the door.

When he began, he sounded hoarse to his own ears. He saw her pause out of the corner of his eye.

     Starlight and moonlight

     Are not my foes.

     But sunlight and your light

     Are the source of my woes.

     The pieces you give me

     Of who you really are

     Slayer, warrior, lover

     And my constant north star

     Are never enough. They never could be.

     I want all of you, sweet girl.

     So I can give you all of me.

     But we can't. I know it. So, farewell my love

     I'm here in the shadows, where I should be

     While you reside, fair and wondrous, far, far above me.

If it had been quiet before, the silence was deafening now. He watched her. Her head was down. Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder - god, that hair, needed a poem of its own, it did - and spoke.

"You're wrong."

"A poem isn't right or wrong, pet."

"This one is. I'm not above you. Or below you." Buffy stepped closer. "You stopped me, from dancing, when we were stuck in the...musical from hell. Why?"

"That dance would have killed you." He sighed. "Buffy, you know why."

"'This isn't real,' that was my refrain, wasn't it?"

"That's about the size of it. You were right, love. It can't be real." Maybe he could make Tara proud, explain how they were wrong for each other, how he'd just keep hurting her if he stayed.

"I lied, Spike. I lied. It is real, and I swear to you if you don't let me get this sentence out-" There were tears on her cheeks. He ached to go to her.

"If I love you..." She was trying the words out, seeing how they sounded. "If I love you, I might as well turn in my stake right now." She gave him a half-smile. "I don't expect you to understand."

"No? Try this on for size, pet. You're the Slayer, need to fight evil, the forces of darkness. Which includes yours truly. And if you could love me, then those creatures you dust with such deft and perky strokes could have hearts and minds of their own. You can't risk that." He reached out to touch her cheek, then remembered himself. "You shouldn't have to."

Buffy looked stunned. "Um, yeah. That's pretty much exactly it. Wait, did you figure that out on your own?"

Spike grinned. "Not as stupid as I look, pet."

"Tara. It must have been Tara."

Spike gave up. "Yeah that bird's smart. She's right too. So you see, now. We can't. I won't put you in that bind, Buffy."

He felt her fingers trace his cheek. All the promises he'd made to Tara, to himself, vanished the second she touched him. He wanted her, wanted her fire, wanted her beneath him, surrounding him. He held himself steady. Her hazel eyes were huge.

"I fight everything else, Spike. I can't fight you. I want to dance, Spike, but differently. I want - I want to go slow."

He drew her to him finally, finally running his hands through her hair. She twined her arms around him and he groaned. He’d go fast, slow, whatever she wanted. She didn’t know that, yet, but he intended to convince her to by the time the night was over.

“Then lead, love.” She kissed him, softly, and he matched her, pulling her down to the chair, letting her settle in his lap. He was hard already, god, he’d been hard the minute she walked in. But now she was his whole world, with her hair hanging like a curtain around them and her tongue dancing with his. She pulled back and he moaned at the loss of contact. He almost reached for her again, but saw the question in her eyes, and waited.

Buffy swallowed. "Wow. And, um, you don't mind? Going slow? You don't need the pain?" Spike would have been hurt if she hadn't looked so uncertain.

He cupped her cheek. "Don't mind it. Don't need it, pet."

She rested her forehead on his. "Your eyes are the hardest part."

'Not other parts, love?" He tried to keep his tone light, his hold on her loose. He'd never seen her this vulnerable.

"No. Your eyes. The way you look at me, like - like I'm not a monster, like I'm worth..."

To him she was an onslaught of light and heat and blinding energy. To think she could inhabit think that beautiful, tight, curvy - _stay focused Spike_ \- body and not understand...

"I could show you, love." He was purring, sliding his palms over the curve of her waist. He could hear the rapid beating of her heart. He drank in her scent as he kissed her neck, gently, grinning as she twisted and turned above him.

“More, Spike, please, I-“

“Think this would be easier without clothes, kitten, as much as I enjoy the challenge.”

***

"Really? Tara got Dawn to like bananas?" Buffy wrinkled her nose. She and Spike were walking up to her house, together. Like they did, now. Buffy even had her hand tucked into his arm. Spike felt like he was floating, like he hadn't come back down to Earth since...well, since he'd woken up with Buffy next to him, and it hadn't been a dream, and instead of punching him in the head and running, she'd curled up next to him and sighed happily.

Spike kicked a pebble with his boot. "Yeah, s'pose they got all kinds of nutrients and minerals, right?"

"Name one."

"Potassium. A-ha! Thought I wouldn't know, didn't you?" The thwack Buffy gave him was worth it. Spike made a show of rubbing his shoulder.

Tara and Dawn were both waiting at the door. Spike looked at Tara with a silent plea in his eyes. He didn't want Nibblet to fret, and he didn't want to have to go through with a long explanation, not if he didn't have to.

He needn't have worried. "Thanks for the bananas, Spike," Tara said warmly. She ushered them both into the house. Spike saw the table was set for four.

"Yeah, a big thank you for the gross addition to my breakfast." Dawn pouted. Buffy wrapped her up in a hug. "That's enough Dawn. Bananas are good for growing up tall and strong. They have potassium, you know."

"You told her," Tara murmured as he followed her into the kitchen, silently. Spike nodded, a little lost. Tara kissed him on the cheek. _Daft, Red was, to leave one so sweet and kind._ "Good job. You both look happy."

"Listen...thanks, Glinda, really, for everything." He wasn't sure how to put what he felt into those words.

"You're family, Spike," Tara said, as if that explained it all. And maybe it did, at that, Spike thought, as they dug into dinner together, Buffy's hand resting on his thigh under the table.


End file.
